


The Eagle's Cry

by Blue_Night



Series: The Adventures of the Roman Legatus Marcus Retus and his Friends [19]
Category: Men's Football RPF, Original Work, Real Person Fiction, Rome
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Germania, Angst, Beating, Enemies to Lovers, Fate & Destiny, Hate to Love, Hurt, Imprisonment, M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements, graphic description of violence, roman culture, roman gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Centurion Marcus Retus is captured by his enemy Legatus Robertus Levantus, and there seems to be no escape from his captor. But why is there a black eagle flying over the camp where he's tied to a post, and who is the mysteriousDark Riderhis guards are talking about?Prequel to'Dark Rider', telling how Robert and Marco met for the very first time in ancient Gaul and Germania.





	The Eagle's Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts).



> My dearest mariothellama,
> 
> you asked for Marcus Retus and Robertus Levantus, and we talked about darker stories. I actually had this prequel to _Dark Rider_ in mind for some time, and your teasing on our wonderful day together finally pushed me to start with it. This would normally be a whole lot darker than it will actually be, but knowing how you feel about our boys, I'll smooth this out for you. It will still be rather dark, but ancient Roman times were dark and cruel sometimes...
> 
> This part of my Roman AUs takes place shortly after Caesar's death during the civil war instead of my usual setting during Tiberius' reign - as I needed Marcus and Robertus to be enemies at first - and I'll stay as vague as possible not to interfere with history too much. Marcus Antonius was in Gaul together with Caesar, and I imagine that some of the Romans there stayed loyal to him and fought against Octavian's legions in Gaul, at least here in my supernatural AU.
> 
> I hope that you will enjoy this story, my dear, even though it might not be the Roman Leweus you most likely wished for...
> 
> My dear GoForGoals, pinkquill22 and Bluerose06,  
> you explicitely asked for a sequel to _Dark Rider_ , and I will write one for you with present Robert and Marco one day, I haven't forgotten about your request!! <33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus Retus wakes up from an unconsciousness just to find himself tied to a post and at the complete mercy of his enemy Legatus Robertus Levantus, the nephew of the cruel Pro-Consul Jove Gadiolus, who is supporting Marcus Antonius and not Caesar's adopted son Octavianus in the civil war that follows Caesar's death...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _'Jove'_ is another form of the name Jupiter. Considering the timeline this story takes place in I found this name more fitting than a changed version of the name 'Joseph', even though the meaning of the names is different, but Jove sounds similar enough, I think. You might recognize Lucius Faverus, even though he's only mentioned in this story. ;-)

Every single bone in his body was aching when Marcus Retus slowly regained back consciousness again, and he couldn't move his arms and his legs, only turn his head when the dizziness finally faded and he was able to open his eyes without having to fear that he would throw up.

The typical noise of a Roman camp surrounded him, and Marcus carefully looked around to orientate himself. He was standing upright – or more like hanging upright – tied to a thick post, so it couldn't be his own camp but must be a camp that belonged to the legions that were still faithful to Marcus Antonius, and therefore one of the camps of his enemies. Marcus didn't remember much of what had happened before he'd been knocked out on the battlefield during a fight against three adversaries at once, but his memory would hopefully come back to him when some time had passed.

It seemed to be a smaller camp, surely not the main one, hidden in between several green hills as far as Marcus could tell from his position, the landscape in this part of Gaul offering enough hiding places to build secret camps and outposts for both war parties. Marcus also couldn't smell the unmistakable smell of blood and death that came with each and every horrible battle, so they must have brought him further away from the battlefield. Marcus briefly wondered why they hadn't killed him right away, but that was probably because he was of higher value to them when he was still alive and could be questioned, and a strange voice suddenly speaking up distracted him from his musings and made him turn his head to search for the newcomer.

“Ah, you're finally awake again, centurion.” The mocking voice came from somewhere beside him, and Marcus didn't need to wait long until the speaker stepped into sight and took up position in front of the post he was tied to, standing before him with slightly spread legs and his bare arms folded across his broadly built chest.

Marcus had never met his captor until that day, but he'd heard enough stories about him to know right away that this Roman must be Legatus Robertus Levantus, the nephew of Pro-Consul Jovus Gadiolus. He let his hurting eyes travel over the other man's figure to burn his sight into his memory forever, taking in the short dark curls peering out from under Robertus' helmet and the handsome male face with the aristocratic features and the piercing cerulean blue eyes. Eyes you would never ever forget again once you had looked into them, able to haunt you even in your sleep with their ice-cold glance. Marcus suppressed a shiver and averted his gaze from Levantus' face to let it travel over his tall figure instead.

The dark-haired legatus was of the same height as Marcus was, maybe an inch taller or so, and his body was the body of a well-trained soldier and fighter. He only wore a short and thin red tunic under his heavy armor, apparently unfazed by the rather harsh wind blowing through the camp. That he wore boots instead of sandals was surely more owed to the battle that had just taken place a few hours ago, and not to the cold of the early evening and the chilly air that came with the darkness.

This Roman was the most dangerous man Marcus had ever encountered, even more dangerous than his cruel and wicked uncle, Marcus was damn sure of that, and he could only hope that the Gods would show mercy with him and let his death be a quick one. Pro-Consul Gadiolus was known for not taking any resistance against his malicious plans kindly, and his nephew would surely make Marcus suffer for having fought on the wrong side of this horrible civil war where Romans fought against their own brothers after Caesar's death.

Levantus let him appraise him without batting an eye, his lips curling into a cruel smile when Marcus finally raised his eyes back to his face again. “Are you pleased with what you've just checked out so carefully, Centurion Marcus Retus?” he drawled when he had Marcus' full attention again, and his blue eyes sparkled in a strange light that sent another shiver down over Marcus' back.

“I despise you, Legatus Levantus,” Marcus gave back, not willing to show his fear, and those fascinating blue eyes twinkled when the dark-haired Roman threw his head back and laughed. “Still so proud and defiant, centurion, but I didn't expect any less from you after the stories I've heard about you. Plus, I'm pleased that you recognize me, even though we've never met so far, I'll take that as a good sign that you are aware of what will await you if you don't behave like you're supposed to do from now on.”

Levantus went serious within the blink of an eye again, baring his teeth and narrowing his eyes as he regarded him for a few seconds. “The way you'll be treated will depend on your willingness to cooperate and tell me what I want to know about Pro-Consul Lucius Faverus' plans so I can make sure that this part of Gaul will be a part of our glorious Roman empire when Caesar's rightful heir Marcus Antonius has defeated the usurper Octavianus.”

“This will never happen, I will never tell you anything, Legatus. I don't cooperate with traitors. Octavianus is not the usurper here!” Marcus growled, and Levantus nodded.

“Yes, I thought that you would say that. You might change your mind about that when some time has passed though.” The dark-haired legatus lifted his hand up, his eyes still fixated on Marcus' face, and another Roman stepped into sight, probably one of his guards Marcus hadn't noticed beforehand because Levantus had caught his full attention. The newcomer wore the signs of a decurio, and he was huge and broad, his arms twice of the size of Marcus' arms. His nose must have been broken at least three times, and he had lost some of his teeth as Marcus could see when he grinned wolfishly at him. He looked like someone who drew pleasure out of torturing other people, especially Romans who were standing on the wrong side of the war in his opinion.

“This man will stay tied to this post until I'll give you new orders. It will be helpful to remind your men of what will happen to traitors and renegades. My uncle will be generous if you do as I tell you to do and stay loyal to him, but you'll have to fear his wrath in case that you'll so much as only think of trying to betray him, am I understood, Publius?” Marcus' captor now said without bothering to look at his underling, his natural authority and power being enough to make every man under his command obey his orders without thinking.

“Yes, you are, Legatus Levantus.”

“Very well. Then make sure that Centurion Retus will learn what he has to face if he displeases me more than he already did today.” Levantus said almost casually, his face impassive, only his blue eyes glowing darkly in his dangerously calm face.

The huge and broad decio stepped forward, and his balled fist crashed into Marcus' face before he even knew what was happening to him. His head was thrown to the side, and he could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had torn the inner side of his cheek and his tongue. Hot white pain shot through his scull, the next blow cutting his eyebrow. Blood was dripping into his eye, and Marcus groaned, but Publius didn't stop, beating him until another merciful unconsciousness made everything go black again, Robertus Levantus' cerulean blue eyes staring at him following him into the darkness.

 

***

 

The next two days were pure agony for Marcus, an endless array of horrible pain throbbing in every single part of his body when he was awake and hours of full or almost unconsciousness and dazed blur. Marcus arms were numb from being tied to the post the entire time, and he could hardly open his left eye because it was swollen and his eyelid was glued with dried blood. His lips were torn and bruised, and he couldn't breathe without pain because Publius had broken some of his ribs. Marcus' legs hardly supported his weight anymore because he had to stand upright the entire time, and the cold made him freeze and shiver, increasing the pain because of the chills wrecking him.

The pain was all consuming and didn't allow him any coherent thought, but Marcus held his ground with desperate stubbornness and grim determination, never faltering in his will to withstand Robertus Levantus when the dark-haired legatus came to question him again with a stoic face and a calm voice. More beating followed his silence and his constant mocking rejection to reveal any possible secret or tactic move Pro-Consul Faverus might have shared with him, and Levantus' blue eyes were always the last thing Marcus remembered before he fainted from the agonizing pain raging in every cell of his body when Publius used him as a valve for his frustration and anger again.

He was allowed to relieve himself three times a day, two older legionaries untying him and dragging him over to the makeshift latrines, and Marcus was actually amazed that Levantus didn't humiliate him by making him having to piss himself, but allowed him to keep at least some of his dignity. There was always blood coloring the yellow stream, and Marcus' back hurt in the height where his kidneys were. It wouldn't take long until he would die if Legatus Levantus kept torturing him for much longer, and Marcus started to wish seriously for that day to come on the evening of the second he'd spent in custody as Levantus' prisoner.

He got some water to drink in the mornings, around noon and then in the evenings again, and the water was fresh and clear and not muddy - much to his surprise as well. One of the younger legionaries brought him the water together with some bread or broth, but Marcus couldn't eat much in his state without getting sick and throwing up the few bites he'd been able to take.

No one except for Legatus Levantus was allowed to talk to him, even Publius always beat him in complete silence, and they avoided looking at him as best as they could - whether it was because they feared Levantus' wrath or if it was because they felt pity with him and uncomfortable about what happened to another Roman was hard to tell.

The dark-haired legatus at least showed some small mercy with him on the second day and allowed him to sit down on the ground in the future when the legionaries tied him to the post in the middle of the camp once more, and he got a blanket for the cold night. Marcus didn't make the mistake to think that his enemy had developed a bad conscience all of a sudden, he knew that Robertus Levantus simply hoped that Marcus would finally give in and tell him what he wanted to know before he died, keeping him alive this way for a while longer.

Marcus' only company during these days was an eagle flying its circles over the camp, a large and beautiful king of the sky with feathers as dark as Robertus' hair. Marcus craned his head to watch the eagle fly over the camp despite of the sharp pain shooting through his neck and his scull every time he did so, and he listened to its cries echoing in the cold air with a wistful smile on his split lips.

There was a strange connection between him and the eagle, and Marcus wanted to believe that the beautiful bird was coming back to the camp only because of him and to remind him that he shouldn't give up hope that the Gods would show mercy with their faithful centurion if Marcus stayed loyal to them and didn't betray their trust in him that he wouldn't break down and surrender to Pro-Consul Gadiolus and his wicked nephew.

The third day had passed like the previous two ones, and Marcus was waking up from another unconsciousness when the night threw its dark shadows over the tents and the wooden wall that surrounded them. Marcus had hoped that his own men would search for him at first, but they surely thought that he was already dead, busied with fighting against Gadiolus' legionaries, and the rescue party he'd prayed for would never come, that much was clear now.

The pain kept him awake, and Marcus willed his right, undamaged eye to open when the eagle's cry echoed through the quiet camp, sending a thrill through his body because it sounded much closer than it had ever done before this night.

Marcus tilted his head upwards, gasping out when he saw the large black bird sitting on top of the post he was tied to, staring down at him silently now.

“Hello, my friend,” Marcus croaked out, a small smile tugging at his beaten lips. “Have the Gods sent you to me to keep me company? You're a real beauty.”

The eagle cocked its head to the side with a quiet cawing noise, spreading its large black wings, but it didn't fly away like Marcus had expected it, just cried again, its intelligent dark eyes regarding Marcus attentively and with something akin to pity.

“You're my only friend here, king of the sky,” Marcus whispered, “I wished I could just fly away from here like you, but I'm only human, and humans are not meant to fly like eagles.”

“Which is actually a good thing, because you're not supposed to escape me, centurion.”

Marcus flinched and turned his head to the side. Robertus Levantus must have approached him when Marcus had been distracted because of the eagle, and he was standing in the shadows like a dark marble statue and in the same posture he'd had on the first day Marcus had met him. His face gave nothing away of what he thought, looking down at Marcus almost thoughtfully.

The eagle was still sitting on the tip of Marcus' post, watching both men silently, and Marcus felt the strange connection between him and the bird again, a connection that somehow included Robertus Levantus now as well, even though Marcus didn't want to be connected to this man in any way at all.

“You're a mystery, Marcus Retus, a mystery I'm determined to solve, and you're much stronger than I'd given you credit for as I have to admit. Now sleep, you need to preserve your strength for the fight!” Levantus murmured, crouching down before him, and his strange words didn't make any sense to the blond centurion. Marcus couldn't hide his violent flinch when the dark-haired legatus reached out with his elegant hand, trying to get away from his touch, but to no avail.

Robertus' fingers were cool on his forehead, and their touch was gentle, but something exploded in Marcus' head all of a sudden when the other Roman touched him for the first time, something strange and different to the pain Publius' beating made him feel. It was white and hot and cold at the same time, and it took Marcus' breath away before everything went pitch black and he fell into another deep abyss where no coherent thought existed any longer.


End file.
